As far back as I can remember, mom and I followed the faerie circles. First it was Japan, and now Cape Breton Island. We've been here for years, but the Island has never felt like home. The fae heritage had always made me feel unnatural and inhuman. Although I grew up around various fae, the concept of these magical beings never sat right with me.
That’s not to say I didn’t practice magic of my own. Hidden away from the rest of town, I would sit and practice manipulating reality. I would sit in the forest or in her own room and compose illusions. It started out weak, just a small leaf out of place on the ground or an extra fruit tree in a line of forestry. But as I've grown older, the illusions have grown stronger and more extravagant. With the most minimal effort, I can now replicate a Nirvana concert in my bedroom or a unicorn on the sidewalk. The possibilities were endless, and today is the day my efforts would finally come to fruition, all for my boyfriend's birthday.
I walked out into the flow of students. The dull chatter turned into a large roar as the morning bell rang. The masses began to scurry and I turned around, hearing one voice break through the crowd.
I whipped my head around to see a flash of black and silver. Lisa ran behind and smothered me in her arms. Her long black hair draped over my shoulder and I peered back into her dark, piecing eyes.
“Happy 17th, Stevie.” Lisa said, with a kiss on my cheek. “I have a surprise for you.”
“What is it?” I said as I grabbed her hand and led her down the school corridor.
I practically grew up with everything, thanks to my father. But from Lisa, I wouldn’t even mind a small trinket from Holly’s Hobby Shop or a souvenir from the North Highland Museum. It just meant the world to me that she thought of me at all.
“You’ll have to wait and see, “she shot back with a wink. Lisa slipped into the doorway of her first class, leaving me standing like an idiot, thinking of what she could have planned.
---
It wasn’t easy to come up with something this intricate, but I knew it would all be worth it when Stevie saw. He had always been passionate about magic, but had none of his own. As far as he knew, she had no powers either, so he was really in for a surprise.
“Could head to the bathroom please?”
With a slight nod from the teacher, I pushed back from my creaky desk, moving my hand across the randy engravings it held. I slowly gripped the smooth handle of my backpack and lifted it off the floor. Once all my things were gathered, I slinked out of the room. Ducking down the hallway, I brushed my hand over the cold metal of the lockers. My sneakers squeaked on the linoleum floor, as I made my great escape.
I knew I needed just one more clear image to help with Stevie’s present tonight. He liked this obscure art district that tended to get a bit shady at night. I had been putting it off for weeks, but I couldn’t have any more excuses this time. So with that thought, I hopped on my bike and set off for the art district.
Although it was only a 15-minute ride from school, the atmosphere of the district made it seem like a completely different province. The smell of paint thinner assaulted my nostrils moments before I even arrived. I walked closer to the jarring sounds of wood cutting and hammering. Fabric hung from every corner, as a myriad of patterns and colors separated the various artist’s workspaces. I slipped underneath one of the flaps and gazed upon thousands of small china dolls, all in different forms of repair. Matted hair, dislodged heads, and loose limbs covered the tables. I stepped away from the workplace, kicking around some small doll-eyes in the process.
Stepping outside I scanned my surroundings, searching for the grunge artist that Stevie was so fond of. There were tie-dye stands, covered in unique patterns that resembled Madonna or MC Hammer. Adjacently, there were monogram stands, covered in preppy clothing with initials covering the fabrics. There were even stands full of crocheted goods, handmade by a group of elderly women. Potholder, scarves, and leg warmers covered the entire stand, almost hiding the old women completely.
As I walked past, I glanced at some fae artists that took over the side of the street. They were manipulating objects’ sizes, shapes, and colors effortlessly. No matter how many times I’ve seen it, the public use of such power still creeped me out. I backed up to move into another section, but stopped as I the isle I was looking for caught my eye.
I ran up to the vintage bands and soaked in all the names and logos. One by one, I began to produce tiny images in front of my eyes. The Creeks and their ruby red guitars appeared before me, the leather vests smooth against their ratty hair. Like a gust of wind, they were replaced by Kati, a ginger soloist with thick leather pants posing in a head-banging position. I looked back to the shirt and tweaked the red of her hair and her small stature. Before moving on, I turned around to see a small child open-mouthed at my illusions. Looking at her cosmic themed t-shirt, I produced a sea of stars floating around her head. That would be enough inspiration for one day.
That’s not to say I didn’t practice magic of my own. Hidden away from the rest of town, I would sit and practice manipulating reality. I would sit in the forest or in her own room and compose illusions. It started out weak, just a small leaf out of place on the ground or an extra fruit tree in a line of forestry. But as I've grown older, the illusions have grown stronger and more extravagant. With the most minimal effort, I can now replicate a Nirvana concert in my bedroom or a unicorn on the sidewalk. The possibilities were endless, and today is the day my efforts would finally come to fruition, all for my boyfriend's birthday.
I walked out into the flow of students. The dull chatter turned into a large roar as the morning bell rang. The masses began to scurry and I turned around, hearing one voice break through the crowd.
“Stevie! Stevie!”
I whipped my head around to see a flash of black and silver. Lisa ran behind and smothered me in her arms. Her long black hair draped over my shoulder and I peered back into her dark, piecing eyes.
“Happy 17th, Stevie.” Lisa said, with a kiss on my cheek. “I have a surprise for you.”
“What is it?” I said as I grabbed her hand and led her down the school corridor.
I practically grew up with everything, thanks to my father. But from Lisa, I wouldn’t even mind a small trinket from Holly’s Hobby Shop or a souvenir from the North Highland Museum. It just meant the world to me that she thought of me at all.
“You’ll have to wait and see, “she shot back with a wink. Lisa slipped into the doorway of her first class, leaving me standing like an idiot, thinking of what she could have planned.
---
It wasn’t easy to come up with something this intricate, but I knew it would all be worth it when Stevie saw. He had always been passionate about magic, but had none of his own. As far as he knew, she had no powers either, so he was really in for a surprise.
“Could head to the bathroom please?”
With a slight nod from the teacher, I pushed back from my creaky desk, moving my hand across the randy engravings it held. I slowly gripped the smooth handle of my backpack and lifted it off the floor. Once all my things were gathered, I slinked out of the room. Ducking down the hallway, I brushed my hand over the cold metal of the lockers. My sneakers squeaked on the linoleum floor, as I made my great escape.
I knew I needed just one more clear image to help with Stevie’s present tonight. He liked this obscure art district that tended to get a bit shady at night. I had been putting it off for weeks, but I couldn’t have any more excuses this time. So with that thought, I hopped on my bike and set off for the art district.
Although it was only a 15-minute ride from school, the atmosphere of the district made it seem like a completely different province. The smell of paint thinner assaulted my nostrils moments before I even arrived. I walked closer to the jarring sounds of wood cutting and hammering. Fabric hung from every corner, as a myriad of patterns and colors separated the various artist’s workspaces. I slipped underneath one of the flaps and gazed upon thousands of small china dolls, all in different forms of repair. Matted hair, dislodged heads, and loose limbs covered the tables. I stepped away from the workplace, kicking around some small doll-eyes in the process.
Stepping outside I scanned my surroundings, searching for the grunge artist that Stevie was so fond of. There were tie-dye stands, covered in unique patterns that resembled Madonna or MC Hammer. Adjacently, there were monogram stands, covered in preppy clothing with initials covering the fabrics. There were even stands full of crocheted goods, handmade by a group of elderly women. Potholder, scarves, and leg warmers covered the entire stand, almost hiding the old women completely.
As I walked past, I glanced at some fae artists that took over the side of the street. They were manipulating objects’ sizes, shapes, and colors effortlessly. No matter how many times I’ve seen it, the public use of such power still creeped me out. I backed up to move into another section, but stopped as I the isle I was looking for caught my eye.
I ran up to the vintage bands and soaked in all the names and logos. One by one, I began to produce tiny images in front of my eyes. The Creeks and their ruby red guitars appeared before me, the leather vests smooth against their ratty hair. Like a gust of wind, they were replaced by Kati, a ginger soloist with thick leather pants posing in a head-banging position. I looked back to the shirt and tweaked the red of her hair and her small stature. Before moving on, I turned around to see a small child open-mouthed at my illusions. Looking at her cosmic themed t-shirt, I produced a sea of stars floating around her head. That would be enough inspiration for one day.